One Fierce Wish
I wish that I could be allowed to change
My heart for something lighter. That’s because
My own is far too manly. Out of range
Are hearts of moths. They know the moon and laws
Of random hope and hollow searching. Tilt
And flit, flit disappointedly from flower
To flower, inserting tongues up to the hilt
Haphazardly, these winged ones know the power
Of nectared persistence. I’d settle for
A buzzing organ, say that beating urge,
That tiniest insistence at the core
Of hummingbirds resisting threatened dirge.
No. I want mine lighter, like a tattoo
On my man’s heart, made of nothing but blue.